


Ships in the Night

by Oriki-Miitad (Sneaking_UnicornWitch)



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Armor Painting As Courting, Awkward Romance, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Not Beta Read, Waxer Being A Good Brother, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:15:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27580571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sneaking_UnicornWitch/pseuds/Oriki-Miitad
Summary: On board a Venator, it's never truly quiet. Constantly staffed by different watches, clones often are living alongside brothers that they will never meet.Until a couple do.
Relationships: Wooley/Original Clone Trooper Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Ships in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> It wouldn't make sense to have all the troops awake at the same time, asleep at the same time.  
> And because I am on brand(™), I turned that potential military realism into soft romance...

“Force, I’m ready to hit the gym. Gotta get some of this energy out! You coming, Wooley?”

“Nah, I’m feeling pretty tired. I’ll see you back in the berth, vod.”

The corridors are heaving, and Wooley only narrowly avoids crushing a mousedroid underfoot on his way to the mess. 

He snags a caff from the dispenser and adds a frankly disturbing amount of canned sweetmilk. Then pours out a de-caff and leaves it black, exactly as caff should be. The mess isn’t yet the quiet it can be in the true dead of Cresh shift, but there are at least a few tables free. He sits, waits, lets his mind begin to wind down from high alert to something around simply aware.

It’s only when a harried looking brother walks in that he moves again. Waving his his arm, he calls out, “Copper, over here!” 

The other man’s eyes are bleary, his hair is a mess. But the look on his face is only fond as he snakes between the tables and plunks himself across from Wooley. 

Wooley slides the caff across, careful not to spill any of it. Copper’s face transforms from one of exhaustion to pure bliss as he takes a sip. Just as it had every other time before. Wooley waits, a beat, two, and there’s the expected  _ aah _ .

“Needle’d blow their bucket if they knew how much sweet I put in yours. How can you even drink it like that!?”

“Needle doesn’t need to know, do they?” Copper fires back with a grin and a slightly sloshy salute.

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> They had bumped into each other, literally, a couple of months ago; Constantly-Late Besh Watch Copper bowling over Dead-on-his-Feet Aurek Watch Wooley in the corridor that acted as the central artery of the ship. 
> 
> It went like this: Copper maintained that Wooley should have been looking where he was karking going; Wooley still reckoned that trying to put on your armour while walking was an accident waiting to happen and that Copper should count his stars it was only Wooley he barrelled into rather than Commander Cody or the General. 
> 
> Since then, they’d managed to meet most Aurek-Besh shift changes for a few minutes.
> 
> Sometimes Copper would manage to haul himself out of his bunk early- _ ish _ , and would have a de-caff ready to go by the time Wooley made it off work. Othertimes - most times - it was Wooley waiting with something to pep up his friend.
> 
> Over the weeks they’d chatted about this and that, different trainers they knew on Kamino, where their batchmates had ended up. They’d grown close. Wooley tried not to think about how much he’d become accustomed to their talks together, how the tired fog in his brain would lift when Copper came in the room. After all, nothing was certain in war.

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“Here, gimme your comb. Your hair’s a sight. You don’t want the Marshall Commander to see you like that.”

“I don’t want  _ anyone _ to see me like this, vod. Least I can put my bucket on when we’re in the field.”

“Kot. Now pass that comb.”

Desnagging his Copper’s hair doesn’t take long. There aren’t too many tangles in it, it’s just unruly. Wooley loves the red-tone to it, how his hair makes him plenty noticeable among the brothers even from a distance. He keeps brushing a little longer, knowing how much Copper likes the feeling on his scalp. Finally a hand stills the comb, settling over his. Wooley’s heart pumps a little faster. 

“Sorry, but my El-Tee’s gonna rag me out if I’m late again this rotation, and I really don’t want sannie duty.” 

Wooley stands back. Copper drains his caff, tucks his comb away in a pouch, starts walking to the door. 

“Hey, wait!” Wooley calls after him, grabbing something from their table. Built lanky, he crosses the distance in a few strides. He’s holding Copper’s helmet. 

Painted in the usual 212th orange, it features tallies for every clanker he's punched down and out. Their Commander is an influence over them in many ways - the medics just wished his fistfighting tactics weren't one of them. Copper had spent a couple of their coffees together last rotation with his tongue poking between his lips as he neatened it up following a messy campaign.

“I swear, you’d forget your head if it wasn’t screwed on.”

“Then I guess it’s a good job I’ve got you.”

Wooley knows that his cheeks are flushed, his ears are on fire. There’s a flash of regret that he’s not wearing his own bucket as he ducks his head. 

A hand reaches out to pull up his chin, before it settles on his pauldron. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Looking forward to it. Stay alive, vod.”

He thinks he maybe hears a, “For you, anything,” as Copper walked away. Wishful thinking.

He is, however, pretty sure that he doesn’t flinch  _ too much _ when a voice very close behind him asks, “When’re you gonna ask him out?”

He spins round, comes face to face with Waxer. Looking over the other man’s shoulder he sees a table of brothers with a space free. 

“I swear, I’ve watched you moon over him, him moon over you, for  _ weeks _ now. Do everyone a favor and get your act together. Though keep up the soppy shit. It's making Boil sick, I love it.”

“Thought you were going to the gym?”

“You’re more entertaining,” Waxer shrugs, pulls Wooley to the table and pushes on his shoulders until he sits. Damn scouts.

“So. What you’re going to do it this…”

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On the table in front of him are two cups of full-strength caff. One with enough sweet to float a Lartie, the other black and bitter. Waxer had promised to pull Copper in here somehow. The look on his face made Wooley too scared to ask how. 

He passes time on his datapad, messaging his batchmate stationed on Coruscant. Occasionally he flicks his eyes up to check the door, and tries not to let his foot bounce in anticipation. There’s a feeling in his stomach that isn’t dissimilar to the one he gets right before the first shots of an engagement.

Part-way through commiserating about how awful GAR fresher roll is - Wooley swears it’s got worse - his shoulder jolts as someone sits down on the bench next to him.

“So, you want to explain why your CO just scooped me up and carried me down here?”

Wooley laughs around the lump in his throat. “That does sound like Waxer all right. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, no casualty other than my dignity. You’re normally in berths now, what’s up?” Copper asks. 

Wooley steels himself, deep breath. One, another. 

“I’ve really liked our chats. A lot. Umm, and I. I  _ wanttospendmoretimewithyou _ .” he blurts. The flush is back on his cheeks. In a bid to not make eye contact he looks over Copper’s shoulder. Right at the press of troopers giving him thumbs ups and stupid grins. Maybe eye contact isn't so bad after all. 

Copper’s face is gentle when he looks back. His stomach drops to his boots. Being let down softly hadn’t been any of the plans or contingencies Waxer had gone through with him. Wooley thinks Copper must have parsed some of his unspoken fear, because his face brightens as he begins to speak. 

“I want to spend more time with you too! You’re either working or asleep when I’m off work, and then when you’re free I’m not, I hate it.”

The knot eases, his stomach coming back to somewhere about normal.

He falters over his next words. “Can I just… you mean as, more than friends, right? Because that’s what I meant. If…”

Copper spares his remaining dignity, saves him from trying to find the rest of that sentence, by resting a hand over his on the table. 

“Yeah, vod. More than friends.”

Wooley hugs his more-than-a-friend, signing a  _ mission-success-declarative _ to his squad across the way. There’s a whoop from someone, he’s pretty sure it’s Longshot. 

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A habit forms, almost as quickly as the last one did. It means he spends less time with the rest of his platoon, but he sees them every Aurek shift. Besides, Waxer’s the one who encouraged him to do this anyway.

He works his usual watch with them all, before he meets up with Copper for their customary few minutes together with a coffee at shift change. The hair brushing becomes routine, something they love to share together. Then Copper dives off after a kiss, and Wooley heads back to berths to sleep. It means that they both have Cresh-shift free to do what they want - together. Often all it is is cuddling to watch a holo, or a spar in the gym turned tumble in the refresher.

A few months down the line Waxer gives him another nudge, literally, holding paint and brushes after a hard-fought battle. His smirk is knowing as Wooley flushes beet, scurries off with a stammered thanks. 

Shifts don’t mean much in a campaign. You fight when you need and you sleep when you can. You dream of rest. He tracks down Copper’s platoon, his partner’s CO waving him over. The paint is glanced at, and the Lieutenant says approvingly, “You’re a sound one Wooley. The two of you are good together,” before disappearing into the tent and bringing out Copper. 

They sit on the floor outside, surrounded by the hum of brothers. Wooley holds out a rag and a broad brush first, which Copper takes easily. Then, after a heartbeat’s pause for courage, he passes over his vambrace. 

Copper gasps when he sees. He accepts it with reverence in his eyes, freely hands over his own. 

Wooley settles in to brush off the grime, before working on freshening up the lines of orange across the plastoid. When he looks up, Copper’s tongue is peeping out and he's suddenly swept up in a wave of fondness for the man. He makes sure to set Copper’s vambrace down with care before leaning across for a kiss. 

They rest their foreheads together, and Wooley says "I love you," into the short space between their lips.

It's the first time he's said it out loud. 

It's not going to be the last. 

**Author's Note:**

> I just… I really love the 212th? *shrug*.   
> We saw Waxer be nice to a kid in a warzone once, and we all went 'soft'. He's definitely the ori'vod in this one. 
> 
> I'm on tumblr [here](https://oriki-miitad.tumblr.com/), come say hi!


End file.
